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Crossing the Pond, 

OR— 

JACK'S TARN. 



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J. DUDLEY FERGUSON. 



BALTIMORE ; 

JOHN H. FOSTER'S STEAM PRINTING AND PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

No. 9 South Charles Street. 

1878. 






Entered According to Act of Congress in the Year B7«„ sr 

J. Dudley Ferguson, 

Jn the office of the Librarian of Congri ss atAVashixgtoj^ 1> C 



PREFACE. 



For the benefit of the un travelled reader it may be well 
to explain that Larne is a seaport in the County Antrim, 
Ireland, and that the Maidens are a pair of islets just 
abreast its harbor. Tory Island, located off the north- 
west coast of County Donegal, is the point from which 
ocean steamers, going north about Ireland, usually enter 
upon their westward course. Shuggy-shoo is an Irish 
term for what the American boy knows as see-saw. 

The narrative is founded on a series of occurrences which 
really transpired on a voyage across the Atlantic last 
Autumn — albeit presented with some degree of poetic 
license. 

Baltimore, Md., 1878, J. D. F. 



GROSSING THE POND, 

OE 

^—JACK'S YARN,— <> 

GETTING UNDER WAY. 

"All clear forr'd !" "Ay! Ay! All clear,"" 

"Stand by in the engine room ! 
More lively aft !" "Right sir, here !" 

"Full head ! We'll have great guns soon.'*' 



FOREBODINGS. 

Robed the sky in threat'ning clouds, 

With a falling glass, the note 
So shrill, that piped thro' the shrouds^ 

Even landsmen knew by rote — 
Were portents of wind ahead, 

Warnings of trouble to come ; 
Causing the bravest to dread, 

Its effects on friends at home. 



Crossing the Pond, 

So many a sigh was breathed, 

As we steamed away from Larne — 

Sun-bronzed cheeks suffused with tears, 
Showing Irish hearts were warm. 



CATCHING IT. 

The breeze which was stiff at the Maidens, 

To a gale off Tory had grown ; 
And ere we lost sight of old Ireland, 
'Twas plain we had met a cyclone. 
The sea rose before us like mountains, 

It followed as fiercely behind ; 
It pounded our sides like some monster, 
Hell-armed with forces malign. 
On port and on starboard we shipped it, 

It made a mill-race of the deck ; 
The fore-main-yard was bathed in its spray, 

And one of the boats was a wreck : 
Our eails had been blown into ribbons, 

And lashing like demons at play, 
The crew found it hard to secure them, 

And clear all the debris away. 
Whilst thus they were working like heroes. 

Determined the vessel to' save, 
The sea as if goaded to madness, 

Uprose in a terrible wave, 



or Jack's ] r arn. 

And rolling, and rushing, and roaring, 

Came forty feet of blue water ; 
Over our bows, on top of the men, 

One of whom went — but no matter. 

"He was only a common sailor, 

We can't afford sentiment here;" 
So some one said, but that wife of his, 

Who kissed him good -by on the pier, 
Who watched the ship till it sank from view, 

And now mourns in her lonely home — 
Ah ! She would not have bartered her Jack,. 

For the glo:v of England's throne ! 



^T\. .. 



Crossing the Pond, 
A GENERAL VIEW. 

Five days and nights, 
Of just such sights, 
A lonely trip, 
On battered ship, 
The sun obscured, 
No star appeared, 
Or friendly sail, 
Came within hail, 

To signal "How do you do?" 
Pitching, rolling, 
Tossing, lurching, 
Rivets starting, 
The screw racing, 
Jerking, straining, 
Wounding, maiming, 
Sailors growling, 
Captain scJpwling, 

The passengers black and blue.. 



xfV 



or Jack's Yarn. 
A PEEP BELOW. 

Well, one of those nights I was trying to sleep, 

Bear in mind not so easy to do 
When one's head is playing along with his feet, 

The game called by the boys Shuggy-shoo ; 
But at last I got oft to the land of dreams, 

Was indulging perhaps in a snore, 
When sans ceremonie I resigned my berth, 

And went heels over head to the door. 

Without ceremony I stood on my head, 

My heels beating time on the panel — 
A lively duett that would bring down the house, 

On the Irish side of the channel. 
At the same time trunk, satchel, pitcher, and glass, 

Started off on a cruie e of their own, 
And in the confusion these lubberly craft, 

Pitched upon me and jammed every bone. 

Ah ! Now you are smiling, you think it was fun ? 

Pray banish such thoughts to oblivion ! 
There's no fun in having a trunk on a plunge. 

Come tilt into your lumbar region. 
No fun in being struck on the starboard ear, 

Or the one on the port side either ; 
With satchels, and glasses, and bottles of beer, 

Or drenched by contents of receiver. 



Crossing the Pond, 

Fun ! No sir. 1 1 was earnest all — a battle 

For life, 'tween, brains and steam, 'gainst the main • 
Though to Irish e) es there was 'mid the rattle, 

As in other things a funny vein. 
But making th- best of our situation, 

We gathered the fragments together 
And offered our prayer to the Almighty One, 

Who controls all states of the weather. 



ON DECK. 

But sleep, "that blessed invention," 
Was wholly out of the question, 

As ocean trav'lers know ; 
And most men would rather be drowned, 
Seeing the waters close around, 

On deck than do vn below. 
Once outside tho' self-reliant, 
As in presence of some giant, 

On deadly wrong intent ; 
I trembled at the angry hiss, 
Of the treacherous, wild abyss, 

Whose force was not yet spent. 
I tell you it was something grand, 
Out there five hundred miles from land, 

Viewed from the steamer's bridge ; 



or Jack's Yarn. 

To see her rise each mighty wave, 
Then downward dash to threatened grave, 
From off the dizzy ridge, 

How I got there I hardly know, 
Feeling my way and moving slow, 

Over the slipp'ry deck ; 
Part of the way on foot of course, 
Yet it was dark, and wet, and worse, 

Hence, chiefly on my back. 

""Well now !" Said the deck officer, 
"If this is not queer for you, sir, 

You here ! We'l I'm a whale ; 
But, I guess, as the Yankees say, 
You've seen blue water ere to day, 

Or night," Bang ! split a sail. 

And opening wide his weather eye, 
Said he, "Before my watch is by, 

We 11 have a higher sea ; 
Just step this way behind the screen, 
You're a parson ? Then this won't seem 

Girlish, in such as me." 

I stood with him ihere at midnight 
Whilst the binnacle's pure white light, 
Lit up the compass card ; 



12 Crossing the Pond, 

And in answer to "Do you pray?" 
He spoke right up in sailor way. 
And here Igive his words : 



JACK'S YARN. 

"Well sir we're not much given to praying, 

Least so landsmen think and say ; 
Fact is we hav'n<: much chance for praying, 

In the reg'lar sort of way. 
"Off and on, nine months of every year, 

I'm aboard some ship at sea ; 
And, foul my hawse, if it don't appear 

That in church I cannot be. 
"But, twixt you and me, we sailor men, 

Get far nearer God betimes ; 
Than lots of folk who look down on Jack, 

From some pulpit velvet lined. 
"And we all believe in God, you bet, 

Doubters don't follow the sea — 
When sails are splitting and waves on deck, 

A man learns how small he be. 
"Tyndal, or some scientific chap, 

Says prayer is all in your eye ; 
I would like to have him here some night — 

He would give himself the, lie. 



or Jack's Yarn. 

"Yes sir, I pray when walking the deck, 

As well as when in my pew ; 
And, better still, I've been saved from wreck 

By prayer, more times than a few. 

"Many a time have I made my prayer, 

When every thing else had failed ; 
And the old ship pulled through fair and square, 

Surprising the Jacks she sailed. 

"But the greatest story 1 can tell, 

And this one I know is so ; 
For death came so near that hour, his knell, 

Sounded high above the blow. 

"I was homeward bound from China, seas, 

The second mate of a ship ; 
Hurrying in the first crop of teas, 

Having made a splendid trip. 

"Our captain was of the swearing kind, 

The chief mate we lost abroad ; 
And that awful night, breasting the wind, 

I grasped the hand of my God. 

"We were standing up thro' Dover straits 

Sir, before a south-east gale ; 
And I wanted to lessen our risks, 

By furling some of the sail. 



i£ Crossing the Pond, 

"But the old man said he knew his ship,. 

Knew 'xactly what she could do ; 
And loud he swore he would let her rip, 

If it sr.apt the sticks in two. 

"His mouth had barely closed on the words,, 

When all spars above the tops ; 
With a thund'rino: crash went by the board, 

Sending all of us kerflop. 

"And over the bow rose Foreland light, 
The North one called by that name ; 

W nich meant that the Downs were right abeam,. 
And no chance to 'scape the same. 

"The breakers' roar was too plainly heard, 
Methought that I saw their foam ; 

Whilst the captain, prone upon his face, 
Did nothing but cry and groan. 

"As soon as I cut the wreckage clear, 

I took a run down below ; 
And Unto my heavenly Father dear, 

Cried for mercy in our woe. 

" 'Oh ! Help us out by changing the wind,, 
Just three points, or so, off shore' ; 

'Twas all I said, yet, the Master heard, 
The three points it changed — no more- 



or Jack's Yam. /j 

' l And our ship was warped the foll'wing night, 

Right chuck into London docks ; 
Leaky and sprung, but with every wight, 

Sound as the Eddystone rock. 

"And I do believe, and will believe, 

In the power of prayer to save ; 
I larned the trick at my mother's knee, 

And praying I'll reach my grave. 
"Ah ! Here's the mate. No, sir. Nothing- new, 

Just a trifle heavier sea ; 
Good night !" And, while spray about us flew, 
He said, softly, "Pray for me ?" 



CONCLUSION. 

It was naught but a sailor's yarn, 

Yet oh, so pregnant with that Truth, 
Which some sages have failed to learn !— 

Which earthly wise men say, forsooth, 
Belongs to an age that is passed — 

One of the old superstitions, 
Exposed, thanks to science, at last, 

And soon to rank with tradition — 

God's Truth — writ in the sacred Word, 
The breath of weary human souls ; 



16 Crossing the Pond. 

Which brings them blessing from the Lord, 
Where'er they roam from pole to pole — 

The effectual fervent prayer. 

Which moves the heart of our Father, 

To stay his hand, bid winds be fair, 
For sake of our Elder Brother. 

So I crept back that stormy night, 

From the bridge and deck to my room ; 

Assured that some of Christ's own light, 
Was guiding our ship thro' the gloom, 

And knelt in prayer for that brave man, 
Who taught me anew the lesson ; 

That prayer will save thro' life's brief span, 
And close it in full salvation. 



Psalm, evil ; 23 — 28. 
St. James, v ; 16. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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